I know that I'm not the only one who struggles with this. I had a Skype date with a college friend of mine (her first child is a little cutie named Keegan and she's staying at home with for the indeterminate future as well), and brought the "I" word up on her own in the course of our conversation. Isolation, thou art a devilish mistress.
Lest anyone read this far and roll your eyes, hear me out. Sure, I was video chatting with a good friend, and we each had a little tot crawling all over/around us, but surely it's understood that it's not the same, right?
I don't make friends easily. If not for my jobs & kids, I would not have friends here...and I've lived here now for coming up on 7 years. Hey college friends...you all rock. I love that we still keep in contact. I love that we still visit each other. I love that we chat on-line in various forums. You all make it easy, much more so than it is for me in any other way.
I fell into some blind luck by finding a group of women who all had new babies the first time I did. And, for unknown reasons, they've adopted me. I, in turn, have adopted the role of amoeba.
The day-to-day, however, involves a whole lot of isolation. You know it's going to be like this at least to some extent when you enter into this kind of arrangement, so it's not complaining so much as trying to rationalize the barren feeling that just creeps up on you some days. I've never felt so up and down as these past few months: motivations? end in sight? purpose? Interminable winter hasn't helped. Small house hasn't helped. The boy's coaching gauntlet hasn't helped.
This past week, I have been singularly responsible for or with at least one child approximately 91 hours. Ben has been singularly responsible for or with at least one child approximately 27 hours. That's a lot of me by myself with just the two small fry with which to talk.
Surely, there's some happy medium between responsibility towards children and responsibility towards self. I haven't found it yet.